


Turn the right corner in Sin City and you can find anything

by killing_kurare



Category: Sin City - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killing_kurare/pseuds/killing_kurare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble collection of short moments in Sin City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marv/Goldie, You have seen nothing yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The biggest KO Marv ever experienced

**Title** : You have seen nothing yet  
**Wordcount** : 150  
**Rating** : G  
**Challenge** : [Comicdrabbles](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com/) #88 - K.O.

 

 

 

Marv was lying flat on his back, not able to move. He was a little dizzy, his vision not quite clear and his head spinning.

So that’s what a K.O. felt like …

He thought back … alone in the past few months he had been cut by knives, bitten by vicious dogs and shot by guns of different types; he had been kicked, hit by a baseball bat, a bottle and of course several fists; hell, he had even been struck by a car more than once!

And yet nothing had shaken him up more than the sudden impact of her perfume, her hands on his body, her lips on his.

“Already tired, big boy?” Goldie purred and grinned down at him.

“Just taking a break. You really knocked me out, y’know.”

He hears her soft chuckling before feeling her getting on top again.

“You have seen nothing yet.”

 

 


	2. Marv/Goldie, You have seen nothing yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bar used to be Shellie's shelter; used to.

**Title:** Stow it  
**Word Count:** 220  
**Rating:** PG  
**Challenge/Prompt:** #422: "shelter"

 

 

Shellie sits at the bar and is still trembling. She’s holding a napkin to her bleeding lip and sobs softly from time to time. Actually she should be cleaning now, for the bar was already closed for some time.

“Don’t you want to go home?”

The voice of Nancy makes Shellie jump and the stripper halts in her step.

“Is everything okay?” she asks and approaches the waitress who tries to hide her face. Nancy winces when she nevertheless sees the bleeding lip, the bruise on her eye that is turning already blue, her smeared mascara and the look of fear on the tough woman’s face. Nancy would never have expected to see the self-concious Shellie like this.

“You know, the bar was always my shelter,” Shellie says with a bitter laugh. “He usually never beat me when other people than his friends were around. I thought it would stay this way.”

“He’s at your place?” Nancy asks.

Shellie just nods.

The stripper frowns. Sure, she and Shellie had never been that close, but …

“Know what? You’ll crash on my couch today.”

Shellie looks up, eyes wide with surprise. “No, it’s okay, I-“

“Stow it and get your ass up.” Nancy’s smile doesn’t fit the harsh words, but Shellie laughs anyway.

“Thank you,” she breathes and really means it.

 

 


	3. Wendy/Goldie, A bed is going to be my grave

**Title:** A bed is going to be my grave  
**Word Count:** 20  
**Rating:** G  
**Challenge/Prompt:** #425: "bed"

 

Wendy watches how Goldie lies in her bed and smokes a cigarette. Her expression is stern, lost in thoughts.

“What is it? You seem so serious.”

Goldie shakes her head. “I’m just thinking. Of our life.”

Wendy shrugs. “What about it?”

Goldie turns her head and looks at her sister. It is like they would look into a mirror, and Wendy smiles. But her living reflection doesn’t.

“Are you happy?”

Wendy’s smile falters. “I am. Kinda. We have a good life.”

Goldie sighs and returns her gaze to the ceiling, inhales more of the blue smoke.

“Beds are so important in our life. We spent more time in them than any other woman.”

Wendy gets up from the couch to lie next to her twin, golden locks mingling when she rests her head next to Goldie’s.

“I think a bed is even going to be my grave.”

“What makes you say that?” Wendy doesn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired.” Goldie’s voice is barely a whisper, so Wendy takes the cigarette and puts it out.

“Then go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll be alright.”

Goldie doesn’t answer; she just shifts and closes her eyes.


	4. Marv, Too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always too late for him

**Title:** Too late  
**Word Count:** 110  
**Rating:** G  
**Challenge/Prompt:** #017: "late"

 

„It’s late, Marv.“

He snorts. Of course he knows that. It’s always late. But he also knows what it means when they tell him. Now Shellie tells him because she wants to close the bar, wants him to go home so she can too.

“It’s late, Marv.”

Lucille says it when he pays her a visit to get more of his pills … out of her consultation-hours.

“It’s too late.”

That’s what he tells himself when he thinks of Goldie’s dead body. Too late to save her, too late to find happiness, too late to do anything.

He drinks up and rises from his seat.

“You’re right, Shellie. It’s late.”

 


	5. Shellie/Jack, Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know I need the money," she says but thinks: "And the escape from you."

**Title:** Escape  
**Word Count:** 120  
**Rating:** PG  
**Challenge/Prompt:[ **comicdrabbles**](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com/) \- #109: "night shift"**

 

 

Shellie applies a little more makeup to the latest bruise Jack gave her.

„Come on, Baby, I’m sorry. Come back to bed so I can make it up to you.“

Shellie’s lip trembles but she forces a smile. „It’s alright, but I really can’t. Night shift at the bar,“ she says apologetically, doesn’t dare to look at him now.

Jack groans. „That stupid job is really getting on my nerves. Call and say you’re ill!“

_I surely won’t do that._

„You know I need the money.“ _And the escape from you._  
She takes a last look at the mirror, takes her purse and throws the man in her bed a kiss.  
„Please shut the door when you leave. See ya later!“  


 

 


	6. Wendy/Goldie, Cleansed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are MY angel; mine alone.

**Title:** Cleansed  
**Word Count:** 250  
**Rating:** PG  
**Challenge/Prompt:** [](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/)**femslash100** \- #450 remainder: #441: bathe  
**Challenge/Prompt:** [](http://100-women.livejournal.com/profile)[**100_women**](http://100-women.livejournal.com/) \- #020: clean

 

 

It is almost a holy ritual for Goldie and Wendy after a long working day. They retreat to their little flat in Old Town and undress each other in the bathroom. Neither of them speaks a word as one lets hot water fill the tub and the other chooses perfumed bath salt.

Then they get in together and enjoy the relaxation of their muscles, how all the stress just falls off of them. They wash each other thoroughly, rub their skin as to cleanse themselves from the dirt and the sins of their doing they call ‘make a living’.

“One of the priests blessed me today,” Goldie says and washes Wendy’s hair.

Her twin just snorts. “I can imagine how he blessed you …”

Goldie chuckles lightly. “Not like that. But you know, it got me thinking. Do you think we’ll have to pay for our sins in the afterlife?”

“That would suck. It’s already hell we’re living in now, so what would be the point if nothing’s gonna change when we’re dead?”

“Maybe we should confess our sins to a priest.”

“Yeah, right. And after that he can confess his sick desires to us so we can make a price.”

Goldie sighs. “He called me angel. I kinda liked that.”

“Don’t be so naïve. I hope you didn’t take less money.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.” Wendy turns around and looks at her sister with sad eyes. “You’re MY angel.”

“And you’re mine,” she answers as they embrace each other.

 

 

 


	7. Wendy, Gail/Dwight - Mark my words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight can't stay, whether Gail likes it or not.

**Pairing** : Wendy, Gail (mentioned Gail/Dwight)  
**Wordcount** : 427  
**Rating** : PG  
**Challenge** : [](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com/profile)[**comicdrabbles**](http://comicdrabbles.livejournal.com/) \- revolution  
**Challenge** : [](http://100-women.livejournal.com/profile)[**100_women**](http://100-women.livejournal.com/) \- morning

 

 

„You can’t keep him here and you _know_ it.“  
  
Gail exhales audibly and grits her teeth.  
  
“I don’t care if you love him, I don’t care if he’s getting killed when he leaves –“  
  
Wendy falls silent when the other woman shoots up from her kneeling position at Dwight’s bed – who’s still unconscious – and brings her face close to her own.  
  
“Careful what you’re saying,” the dominatrix hisses. “He has helped us out of some deep shit in the past, and I _don’t_ plan on turning my back on him now.”  
  
Wendy doesn’t flinch back, stands her ground. “I know and also appreciate that. I’m not saying to throw him out now, but I also know that you want him to stay here for good. And that’s just not possible.”  
  
Gail cocks her head and shows a sneering grin. “Is it now. And if I say he stays … _he stays_.”  
  
For a moment neither says a word until Wendy crosses her arms. “I don’t think the other girls will like it.”  
  
Gail huffs and turns away to kneel at Dwight’s bed again. “As if I care.”  
  
“Oh, you WILL care when they stand up to you.” Now it’s Wendy’s turn to show a self-confident grin. “They won’t take a man living here. Never. Not with our history.”  
  
“We’ll see about that.”  
  
“Do you think you’re the only one who has someone out there you want to protect? Believe me, there are others who sacrificed their love because it was against the rules to have men here permanently. They did it because they respect our law, our way of handling Old Town.”  
  
Gail stays quiet.  
  
“And then you come along and decide to bend these rules to your liking.” Wendy’s tone becomes a taunting one and she laughs mirthlessly.  
  
“No, Gail. That’s not how our world works. Mark my words,” the blonde starts and walks up to her, leans in to speak directly into Gail’s ear. “There will be a revolution, and I will be in the front row when it comes to that.”  
  
With that she leaves the room, leaves a torn woman behind. Gail sighs and buries her face in her hands, allowing a moment of weakness when no one’s there to witness it.  
  
“I’ll be gone in the morning,” a hoarse voice startles her suddenly and when she looks up again Dwight eyes her.  
  
Her lip trembles and a bitter tear falls onto the white sheet. “I’m sorry,” she breathes silently and leans in when he lifts a shaking hand to cup her cheek. 


End file.
